


When In Bygone Days

by sister_wolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't actually <em>every</em> Trickster god in every culture of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When In Bygone Days

Gabriel wasn't actually _every_ Trickster god in every culture of the world. That would be ridiculous, not to mention impossible. For most of post-Stone Age history, he answered to the name of Loki.

He wasn't even Loki _all_ of the time, just when it suited him. The real Loki found it amusing to confound Thor and his merry band of idiots by appearing in two different places at the same time. And not all the stories about Loki were really about Gabriel -- there was no _way_ he'd give birth to an eight-legged horse, much less have a part in the conception of such. Svaðilfari was a fine-looking horse, true enough, but _ewww_.

One beautiful afternoon in the late 13th century outside of Oddi, Gabriel told Loki as much. Loki, in the form of a scarlet-scaled salmon, burbled mockingly at him. **That's because you don't have the stones to truly be a Trickster, little seagull. You simply pretend. Inside, you are still just a fine-feathered servant to your Father-god.**

"I am _so_ a Trickster! Didn't you see what I did in Reykholt?"

The salmon flicked its tail dismissively. **Making the runes indecipherable so that the poet would not flee his death? Child's play.**

Gabriel glared at it. "Fine. I'll tell you what, then. I'll perform the greatest trick of _any_ Trickster, ever."

The salmon leaped up from the stream and became a shining-coated mare. She cocked her head to the side, unhorselike, and whinnied derisively. **You, little horsefly? What great trick do you propose to perform?**

Gabriel paced beside the stream for a few minutes, thinking hard. "I'll..." What to do? What would be the greatest trick of all time? It had to be _epic_. It had to be world-shattering... or world-saving. No one would see that coming, not from a Trickster. "I'll stop the Apocalypse."

The mare snorted, shaking her head. **You'll stop Ragnarök? Set your goals lower, little magpie. Tricking the Sturlungar into bashing each other's brains in is more your speed.**

For a moment, Gabriel felt the cloaked embers of his Grace flare. The shadow of great wings flared out across the stony ground. His true voice boomed and crackled with the sound of prophecy. "When the end times come, in a land far across the sea, in the shadow of the setting sun, the archangel Gabriel will stop the Apocalypse, while convincing both sides of the war among angels and demons that he is truly working for them." Gabriel paused, smirked at Loki, and added, " _Twice_."

The mare whinnied, and suddenly in her place stood flame-haired Loki, laughing heartily. "Very well, friend Gabriel. When the end times come, I will wait to see your actions come to pass before I rouse the jötnar to battle against the gods. Let us drink to your greatest trick yet to come," he said, offering an intricately carved horn full of mead.

Gabriel bowed mockingly and accepted. The two Tricksters drank far into the night, telling boasting tales of their exploits and making the land tremble with their mirth.

Some 800 or so years later, sitting in the backseat of the Impala while Sam and Dean Winchester argued about the Apocalypse, Gabriel thought back on that night and laughed.

Dean Winchester, unaware that in the blood of his ancestors Æsir and Vanir battled across the plains of Miðgarðr, quirked an eyebrow at Gabriel in the rearview mirror. "Something you want to share with the class, laughing boy?"

Gabriel shook his head. "It would take way too long to explain," he said, manifesting a package of Twix and chewing on it as loudly and obnoxiously as possible.

"Whatever," Dean said, switching out the tape in the tape player. The opening strains of "Immigrant Song" came on, and Gabriel just laughed and laughed.

Beneath them, the wheels of Sleipnir's descendant rumbled along the highway, as above them two ravens flew across the setting sun.


End file.
